Punctuality and Meetings of the Mindless: hmm

Does punctuality really exist? For some, yes. For others, negative. It’s really just a matter of vanity. While working the same job for 15 years, I may have looked awful, smelled dreadful, and forgot to wear two shoes, but by gosh, I was always on time, almost to a fault. Women aren’t quite the same. They like to look nice, smell wonderful and wear two matching shoes. This requires them a bit more time preparing for pointless meetings. I’ll give this to females. They usually do have more hair than the common man, thus requiring more time to ready themselves for the daily battle.

The weekly or morning meetings at our place of employment were always a joy. My friends and I showed up on time to more meetings than Jimmy Conners had balls. Isn’t that the old saying? My good friend, Jack, taught me that. Other than for comedic purposes, these meetings were utterly useless. Yet, our contract and principal stated by abstract law we should be present. We’d sit at attention at tables just prior to meetings scheduled for 7 o’clock, right on the dot, praying for our fellow female employees to be there at the same time so we could get this show on and off the road as quickly as possible. That’s one of the reasons I lost a little faith in God. Our prayers were never answered.

At 7:15 am, the meeting would proceed. The guys on time at our table were already quite disgruntled, thus setting up the gathering of nitwits to be that much more meaningless. As vigilantes, we would deliberately ignore, distract or destroy the judge of the meeting’s pointless point. Several times, it would get us in a bit of hot water, but we always managed to laugh our way through it. Case in point: When a piano keynote speaker would be presenting us with information we already knew, someone at our table, very seriously, and with supreme maturity would do something such as draw a large middle finger on a notepad, pass it from person to person at the table giving each of us a chuckle. One of my friends once drew a beautiful picture of another friendly employee smoking a cigarette, which is exactly what that employee wished to be doing, amongst other things at the time. My belly laugh almost caused me to be removed from that particular meeting. If I could live it over again, I would have laughed even harder, ensuring my expulsion from nonsense.

Let’s get back to punctuality. For people in the wrong, they usually try to make things right by accusing the accuser. The people tardy for these meetings could not fathom how all these men who most likely were at a bar until midnight could possibly show up on time for a 7 a.m meeting. They were simply disgusted. So, while we were laughing and making fun of acronyms we didn’t know or would fabricate, non punctual people would stroll by with their nose, not in the air, but in your face, and say, “It smells like booze at this table”. We’d all look at one another and say, “It didn’t until you showed up”. Then, we’d laugh and piss people off further. They were actually the worst of times and the best of times. Didn’t a famous author say something like that? It must have been something about punctuality and meetings.

My wife and I play a little game called “Punctuality”. It’s a simple game requiring spreads, just like gambling on a football game. She will state she’ll be home by 6 o’clock from work or perhaps the salon. Knowing this is an abject lie, I recognize that 7 o’clock is really what she means. That’s why I give her, instead of 60 points, 60 minutes. (Gamblers would understand this. If you were never a gambler, let me give you some advice. Don’t gamble unless you are betting on your wife being late) It’s a simple matter of mathematics. Basically, I double every time limit she has, whether it has to do with how long we spend at Target, a local drugstore, the I-Hop with her Nanna, or when she finishes her hair or even perhaps completes an expedition to any shoe store. It’s a terrific game because it eliminates quarrels. If she covers the time spread, I’m happy to get the hell out of target and she gets a foot rub and watches extraordinarily mind bending shows such as Desperate Housewives. If she doesn’t cover the time spread, I watch baseball and football with her until I fall asleep. Secretly, she loves sports, so she wins either way.

You may find this game at Ben’s and Noble.

P.S. It’s 5:30 and she was supposed to be home by 4:30. Now, we have to watch the Seattle Seahawks. I guess I lose again.

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